"The draw is over. The next battle is Number Nineteen."
"Number Nineteen."
Staring at those three enormous words, "Number Nineteen," the spectators on both sides fell silent.
They were eager to see who exactly Number Nineteen was.
They neither shouted nor spoke.
They simply waited in silence.
Silently waiting to see.
"It's my turn."
"After waiting so long, it's finally my turn."
"It really hasn't been easy."
In the competitors' area, a figure slowly rose to his feet.
He wore golden armor, each plate seemingly condensed from that first ray of light at sunrise.
The armor plates were covered in densely packed light runes. As the runes flowed, they released an inexhaustible radiance of white light.
The radiance was not dazzling, yet it possessed a sharpness that could pierce through everything, as if it could bore through every delusion in the world.
Set into the armor over his chest was a fist-sized white gemstone.
Within the gemstone, a tiny sun could faintly be seen slowly revolving, radiating light and heat that had endured since time immemorial.
A pair of white wings gently unfurled behind him, their span reaching more than ten feet.
Every feather was crystal-clear, as though carved from white jade, yet soft and nimble.
Natural patterns of light adorned the feathers. Liquid radiance flowed through those patterns, like tiny rivers of light slowly winding across the wings.
With a gentle flap of his wings, white feathers of light drifted down from the sky. The moment they touched the ground, they turned into specks of white light and scattered, like the footprints left behind by a god.
The young man smiled lightly. His features were handsome and gentle, and his long, pale-golden hair fell over his shoulders, every strand glowing with a faint halo.
His eyes were clear as